


Rubber Bands

by gluedwithgold



Series: What About the Wee!Chesters? [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Little Brother Sam, Schmoop, teen!chesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to write a paper when Dean is bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubber Bands

The rubber band just barely grazes past Sam’s hair and lands with a quiet thud in the center of his notebook. He doesn’t react, just slides it over to the growing pile next to him on the wobbly motel table and starts writing again. Just three more pages and he’ll be done with this paper. 

It’s not even five minutes later when another rubber band comes to rest on Sam’s shoulder. He plucks it off with an eyeroll he knows Dean can’t see, adds it to the others. He’s seriously regretting asking Dean for a ride to the dollar store for more school supplies. Had he walked, Dean wouldn’t have found the giant bag of 500 rubber bands for just a buck. 

Ten minutes and five more flying rubber bands later, Dean sighs behind him. They’d been stuck in this crappy motel room for almost two weeks now, and the television had crapped out the second day. Dean had tried charming the middle-aged woman behind the reservation desk into getting them a new one, three times, but it hadn’t happened yet. So Sam is stuck in a room with a bored brother and a paper worth forty-percent of his grade due tomorrow. 

The worst part about a bored brother and a dollar store bag of rubber bands is that it’s a mixed bag of shapes and sizes, and his bored brother knows the only way he’s going to get any attention is by inflicting pain. And even though he knows this, when the heavy, thick piece of rubber slams into the center of his back at roughly 817 miles per hour with a resounding snap sound, the sudden sharp pain causes Sam to lurch forward and cry out. It also causes Dean to snicker from where he’s spread out on the bed behind him. Sam whips around in his chair to face his brother, fully aware of the bitchface he’s sporting. 

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t go find something to do and let me finish this paper I’m going to kick your ass.” 

Dean’s face breaks out in a grin that can only mean trouble. He reaches into the bag next to him and winds another rubber band around his thumb, hooking it onto the tip of his forefinger, raises his hand to aim then lets it fly across the room, hitting Sam squarely on the forehead. 

“Bring it, geek boy!” Dean says as he loads another band on his hand and lets it fly. The rubber missile zips past Sam’s ear, brushing through his hair and Sam jumps up from his chair, nearly toppling it as he spins around. He stands at the foot of the bed for a moment, glaring at Dean. It only takes a moment for him to rein in his annoyance - he knows Dean wants exactly this. He wants Sam to get pissed and engage. Sam’s not going to give it to him. 

“I’m gonna go get a soda,” Sam says, turning on his heel and heading quickly to the door, opening it and stepping out to the sidewalk in front of their room. 

“Aww, c’mon Sammy! Don’t be a bitch!” he hears Dean calling after him. He lets out an irritated grunt then heads down toward the soda machines by the main office. He retrieves his Coke after depositing half his pocketful of nickels and dimes, then leans against the side of the machine and pops open the can. For the first time in ages, he sort of wishes their Dad were there. At least then he’d have Dean cleaning weapons or something instead of tormenting Sam. Although Sam would probably be stuck researching instead of writing his paper.

Sam turns to look through the large window into the office, and notices the manager sitting there behind the desk. He shrugs to himself, downs the last of his soda and drops the can in the trash, then pushes through the door to walk up to the counter. 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” the woman says, standing and stepping up to the battered wooden counter. 

“Hi, um, my brother and I, we’re in room 107?” Sam says, putting on his best puppy-eyed expression. “Our television broke the other week, I know my brother asked about getting a replacement, and I just wanted to see if you’d been able to get a new one yet?” 

“107...let me see,” the woman says, reaching for a pile of papers and thumbing through. “Oh honey, I am so sorry, it came in last week and I guess it just got lost in the shuffle! New TV is sitting right in the back room.” 

“Really? That’s great!” Sam says, letting his dimples pop out with his smile. 

“Let me see if we’ve got anyone around who can bring it down,” she says, reaching for the phone. 

“Can...can I take it back with me? I don’t mind!” Sam says, watching as the woman’s face seems to melt, his puppy-charm obviously having a better effect than Dean’s flirting with the lady. She smiles at Sam. 

“Oh that’ll be just fine! You boys must be pretty bored with no TV in there.” 

“Something like that,” Sam says, following the manager as she motions for him to follow, leading him into the back room where the large box sits on the floor. 

Five minutes later, Sam is pushing open the door to their room, wrestling the box through the doorway and depositing it on the bed next to Dean’s legs, smirking at Dean’s wide-eyed expression. Sam steps back, pushes his hand up through his hair. 

“There. Now will you freaking leave me alone to write my paper?” 

“Sammy,” Dean says as he sits up and runs a hand across the top of the box. “You’re awesome. Still a little bitch, but you’re awesome.” 

“Whatever,” Sam grumbles as he finally returns to the table, sits down and resumes writing. His only distractions for the rest of the afternoon are the shuffling sounds of Dean setting up the new television, and then the sounds of the action movie marathon Dean finds to watch. Sam finishes his paper just before dinner and packs it away in his backpack for school the next day. 

Sam wakes before Dean the next morning, and after a quick shower he makes a pot of coffee. When it’s done, Dean still hasn’t stirred, so he pours himself a cup, then, with a smirk, pours one for his brother. He carries it over to the bed, swatting Dean’s feet as he passes. 

“Dean. Coffee?” Sam says, trying to keep the grin from his face. Dean rolls over with a grunt, rubs his eyes before sitting up and reaching for the steaming mug Sam is holding out to him. 

“Best little brother ever,” Dean mumbles as he takes the cup, raises it to his mouth and breathes in deeply before taking a sip. Sam ducks his head and turns away quickly, trying to hide the smile he can’t control. “Or not - Sammy, what did you do?” 

“Nothing!” Sam says, glancing back over his shoulder at Dean, who is peering into his mug, suspicious. “Can I get a ride to school?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean says, lifting the cup to take another drink. Sam busies himself putting on his socks and shoes. It’s about five minutes later when Dean speaks again. “Sonofabitch! Sam!!” 

Sam looks over from where he’s shoving his dirty clothes into their laundry bag to find Dean pulling a knotted wad of rubber bands, dripping, from his coffee mug. He can’t help the burst of laughter that comes out when he sees the disgusted look on his brother’s face, followed by the glare directed at him. He only just ducks the sopping mess of rubber bands that comes flying at his head, striking the wall behind him, leaving a coffee-colored splat they’ll need to clean off before they leave. Sam laughs as he grabs his backpack and jacket, then swipes the keys from the table and darts toward the door. 

“I’m gonna drive myself if you don’t get out here in five minutes!” Sam says, smirking as he pulls the door open. As he steps through, he can hear Dean muttering and cursing as he untangles himself from the bed covers. 

“You little shit!” Dean yells after him as the door to the motel room swings closed and Sam heads to the car, laughing as he pulls open the passenger door. He turns the key in the ignition, cranks the radio and settles into the seat to happily wait for his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the wonderful [Dancing_Adrift](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift) and [non_tiembo_mala](http://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala) for beta-ing and being a constant source of inspiration


End file.
